The Three of Us
by Maeve-Juniper
Summary: A Sneak, a Coward and a Brother. Separated by year, by house, by friendships and loyalties. They cross paths more times than they can count, whether they are aware of their pull to each other or not. Somehow, by virtue of fate, they are always thrown back together again. A Collection of One-Shots and Drabbles Featuring OT3 ZS/DC/ME, Other Characters and Ships Make Cameos.
1. A Reunion, of Sorts

**Pairing:** _Zacharias x Marietta_

 **Cameo's:** _None_

 **Tags:** _Slice of Life, Redemption, Hurt/Comfort_

 **Format:** _One-Shot_

 _If you know nothing of these character's, I suggest looking on the HP Wiki otherwise you may get confused.  
_

* * *

Living with Zacharias Smith was a routine Marietta had come to know all at once, a lifestyle she had been thrown in to without a lifesaver, head's first. Bizarrely, every morning he would wake up at five am, get dressed, prepare precisely one cheese omelette and two pieces of buttered toast, set the table for himself and then retrieve the Daily Prophet so he might verbally add his own opinion. There were only two things that had been added to that list since their first year of sharing a flat in London: the first was that, as soon as Marietta would grumble her own way out of bed and meander in to the kitchen, Zacharias would stop, very literally, whatever he was doing. He would come and kiss her on the temple, the lips if he were in a particularly loving mood, and without a word return to his station. The second was a more indirect shift, his commute shifting from using the Floo to merely apparating once his breakfast was done.

Marietta was not the same creature of habit, she would drift in to the living room and pick up a book to read. Sometimes she'd open it on a random page, sometimes she'd finish one or start another or give up halfway through. Or she'd skip that altogether, preferring to chatter on the phone (Marietta always wanted one for easy conversation, it was ten times more convenient than waiting for letters or sticking her head in fires), or looking through the mail (this was always her job, to sift through taxes and fairweather friends. Zacharias despised tax collectors and insincere people. Once he told her she was the only genuine person he'd ever met. He always replied to her letters.)

Other times, when Marietta was feeling the stress of her working position or something reminded her of something else she'd rather forget, she would trace Zacharias' steps as he ebbed through the kitchen, memorize each movement to memory. When she looked close enough, she could see a faint smile on his lips, but he never liked to be interrupted so she would say nothing. Mornings were only allowed to be chaotic when he got his hands on the paper, on the rest of the world. This was their bubble, and they did not need words, those paled in comparison. Mornings were peaceful, because Marietta enjoyed seeing Zacharias be quiet (she used to hate his voice, the drippiness of it, how every syllable could be twisted to sound ugly, but that changed.)(Now, his voice was silken gold spun on truth and wit) because he never was with anyone else, not for a second. Eventually, she learned his vocabulary was his armour, his shield and his sword. This was okay, these were her weapons, too.

On this singular morning, Marietta tip toed down the stairs far later than normal. It was a day off, and she bathed in the advantage of sleeping in. Already, Zacharias had the Prophet clasped so tightly in his fingers his knuckles were white as paper. Sharply, he had looked up at her, and he was wearing an expression that could only be described as a smile and grimace fighting for control over the muscles in his face. Through her nose Marietta sighed, she had missed the small window she had gotten every day, the one where Zacharias let himself be vulnerable. "Do you see this?" He holds up the starchy paper, text designed in that ridiculous way only wizards would deem plausible. In his tone she could sense both frustration and amusement and, half-curious, Marietta squinted to make out the headlines from her stance at the middle of the staircase.

Groaning aloud, the acronym alone was enough to exhaust her, to make her wish to tail it back upstairs and under the covers. But Zacharias needed to let this out, let this go, or else the steam within him would rumble until it exploded. "The DA-"

" _'_ _The DA, Back Together Again'_! Can you believe this?!"

When it came to Zacharias, there was no actual tell as to the response he was truly looking for. Marietta never bothered, she always said what was on her mind. "Given the ego's of half the people in that club, I'd say we should have seen it coming earlier," she said casually.

Rolling his eyes in the way Cho always insisted she did, Zacharias clearly had more than two cents to say on the matter.

"It's only been, what, five years now since the War? You'd think we'd have left a great enough impression that they would invite us" Zacharias complained. He complained as much as he breathed, and maybe even more so. There was never a shortage on his list of what was wrong with the world.

Heavily, Marietta took each step down the stairs one at a time, her feet making blunt, clunking noises each time. Their floors were hard wood. "You can't _honestly_ tell me you really thought they would. I'd bet you just want to laugh in their faces once you rejected them. That's it, isn't it?" A sound that could resemble a snort vibrated from his lips. Grinning, Marietta pointed at him. "That is it, you just want to deny Potter something,"

"Life has given him far too many passes at getting what he wants," His mouth twitches upwards and Marietta laughs, and shakes her head. In school, they'd always make fun of the Potter's and Weasley's and their mindless followers. There were holes in her memory, but she remembered after, remembered bumping shoulders and criticism at the golden boy and his merry band, when Cho was too busy chasing another hero to pay her any mind, too busy getting over herself to have understand.

They don't belittle Harry Potter as much as they used to in crowded halls when he wasn't around. Marietta was ashamed to admit her information was misguided. No one cared, and she had to stop caring, too, and Zacharias never apologized. Never pretended he had to. He knew the value of his own life. So she begins preparing her own breakfast - cereal and a banana - and she lets Zacharias flood her, all his thoughts spilling out and filling her veins, there's always enough room. She makes more of it, when she needs to, because Zacharias loves nothing more than to talk for talking's sake, and he lets her say what's on her mind. They were free of judgment, if only for one another. Zacharias talks, he talks about the DA reunion, and he talks about the economic climate and 'what did you think of the new policy the Ministry has come up with, Marietta? If they had half your mind...' Whenever Zacharias praised her, it was not a cooing affair. He did not ogle, did not make more of something than what it was and always, always Zacharias would say it the same way as anything else, with an intensity he carried with him on his shoulders since he was fourteen years old.

When Zacharias folds the paper up and slides it across the table, it is an indicator. He's about to head off. Not once has Zacharias ever thrown it out after he was done, in case she got in to the mood of skimming over it afterwards, letting her own mind dwell over each word and come to its conclusions. From the start, she knew what Zacharias had seen in her, but it had taken her awhile to figure out. She had the wherewithal to hold conversation with him, where others refused. He was a difficult person, and they both knew this, but they also both knew that she was, too. Hard people to swallow always got spit out by the weak stomached.

There's a pause, the one Zacharias normally sets because sometimes Marietta would ask him to wait a minute longer, to lace their fingers together and remind themselves that they were here when no one else was. This time, Marietta gets up from her chair, she tiptoes towards him and lifts herself higher so she can slide her arms around him. Her hands hook together and she hangs back, staring him straight in those hard blue eyes of his. "They'll miss us, they've got no one else to antagonize them and make them be right about something" The corner of her mouth twerked higher, a brow raised to be comedic.

"Big damn heroes," Zacharias muttered.

"Big damn heroes," she agreed, above a whisper. Kissing Zacharias Smith was a lot softer than she thought it was, before, when they were only thoughts. Now, she gives him one, and it glows in its familiarity, in its feeling of being home.

He goes with a pop, and Marietta can feel the air that was surrounding him being sucked out, too. Rocking back on to her feet, Marietta sighed. The only friend she had left in the world was gone, now. So Marietta moved towards the entrance of their flat, pulling open the door she slowly paced to the elevator, then down the hall, and she was standing before the collective mailboxes of everyone in the building. As she pulled out her keys they jingled timidly, she twists it into the lock and the metal creaks. Shoving her hand in, Marietta wraps her fingers around envelopes and then shuts it rapidly. None were going to be from the magical world, they would be from Muggle banks and Muggle companies demanding Muggle money and perhaps Marietta's Muggle third cousins inviting her and a plus one to a Muggle wedding.

Zacharias did not keep in touch with the Muggles in his life, it was an assurance that he'd never have to put up pretenses. 'Let me around them for more than a day and they'd have to break my wand in half' He'd say, he'd say because Zacharias was never good at keeping secrets, especially when he was expected to. Especially when it came to matters of great importance. They were on a waiting list for a house in Hogsmeade, they had their eye on one closest to the Shrieking Shack. It was out of the way of visiting students and wandering eyes.

Bringing them back up, Marietta waits awhile before ripping in to them. A pot of tea is brewed, a newspaper is read, and a change of clothes occurs all before she walks past the pile of letters and takes a closer look at them. There's one from their electric and plumbing company. She flips it beneath the next. One from their telephone company, and another for their television. Not one from a bank or Cousin Timothy. Reaching the last, Marietta furrows her brow in confusion. A sandy brown envelope with their names scrawled on the front faces her, she does not recognize the handwriting but she does know the postal stamp, it is for Cadburry. There is no seal at the back, the sender licking the letter shut. Stropping off the chair Marietta grabs a pair of scissors from a drawer full of random tools and papers and returns ready. Slicing the top open, she fingers the parchment out of its confinement and smooths the letter out against the table. It could not have been from Cho, Cho used elegant station and her writing was spidery and thin, she had a wax seal that was passed down from her through the generations. A 'C', its curve made out of a dragon and lotus blossoms framing the corners.

She reads it bottom first.

 _Sincerely,_

 _Dennis Creevey_

Marietta gulps, and her eyes bug out and she's about to crush it in the palm of her hand but then she remembered Dennis' cheeky grin in the Hog's Head having successfully snuck out to join them at the age of twelve, Dennis trailing after his brother like a puppy and she doesn't remember anything else. Everything after had been taken from her, and she cannot allow herself to even for a second think of Colin. Marietta did not hate the Creevey's, not when one flashed a camera in her face on the day of the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament and not when the other poked her on the last day of school in her last year of Hogwarts, insisting to take a picture for the first. The first couldn't take pictures anymore, and Marietta couldn't let anyone capture her marred face. She glances down at the letter addressed to herself and Zacharias, the words are blurred at first and Marietta's still too hesitant to put them in to focus.

She breathes, rolls back her head and prods the tears to fade.

She looks back down, and begins to read.

 _'Dear Marietta and Zacharias_

 _I didn't know how to write this to you at first, and I needed to get it done on time so I don't think I'll come off how I want to, so here goes nothing. Since the Prophet has probably already got their article on the Reunion ready to print I'm betting you'll see this after, though I tried to get the two to line up decently. So you know, I didn't go to the get together thinking you guys weren't going to be there. The past between you and the rest is rocky, and I understand why they wouldn't want you to be there. Gosh, even that sounds bad but, it's true. Marietta tattled on everyone in it and Zacharias might not have done anything against us but... you not heading in to battle has soured a lot of people more than your personality already did, Zacharias._

 _Wow, again this comes off sounding a whole lot more like hate mail than anything else. But the point is, I don't hate you, even though I don't support some of the stuff you've done it's just something I can't do. Don't get me wrong, I tried to, and sometimes I tricked myself into believing it because everyone else around me felt that way. But I don't. And I thought I was terrible whenever I even thought about it too much, but then I started changing my mind I guess and I thought the others would, too. So I thought you'd be invited, and I asked around for where you two were but no one really sounded happy with me for it._

 _Hermione even gaped at me, Ron gave this horrible frown and mumbled something and Harry just looked irritated about it, but none of them gave me crap for it. They never do. Hermione organized the event and told me flat out neither of you were invited. Didn't push my luck with them, so I seeked out Cho. Easy to find, actually, chatting with Michael Corner. I think they might be dating again. She was the one who told me your mailing address, and she even smiled when I brought you up. Apparently she had to agree not to bring you along in order to come, and the only reason she gave in to the command was because she really wanted to catch up with people she normally wouldn't get to. Whenever I remember Cho in school, I remember a red nose and splotched makeup and tear tracks, and rumours telling me she was once beautiful. For the first time, I think I believed them._

 _So I sent you this letter, because I didn't think them not letting you come was right. I was surprised to learn you lived together (Cho didn't seem too happy about that. It was one of the few things she seemed unhappy about.) I don't recall ever seeing you together in the Room of Requirement, but maybe that doesn't matter. I was wondering, if the two of you would come have dinner at my house on the 23rd of March to get caught up. Feel free to request a different date, or decline altogether if it suits you._

 _We might not have been the best of friends, the three of us, but I never hated you. I thought it might come as some sort of comfort now, to know that.'_

* * *

Holy shit, Mari."

"I know."

"Holy _shit_ "

"I know," she agrees. It's evening, and Zacharias poured over the letter on what must have been his tenth time. His eyes had widened the first time around, and were just now getting back to their regular narrowness. They sit across from each other in the living room, Zacharias hunched over and legs spread out, and Marietta stares with an emptiness in her stomach.

"Is this not hilarious to you?" There it is, that hint of deliriousness that so often came up when Zacharias was in a tizzy. It had been months since his last break out.

"Well, maybe it will at some point. Not now. We won't be going anyway," Marietta relaxes her back against her couch. This will be a long night.

"Why the bloody hell not? Dennis might be a fool, but he's not fake. He never pretended to know what he didn't," Zacharias insists, and she didn't think he would. Didn't think he'd even want to attend. By now, she'd pictured that he'd have thrown the letter in to the fire pit and laugh in mirth as the embers turned it in to dust. There was even a copy of it she'd procured, charmed in to existence, that she saved in the safety of her pillowcase. But Marietta knew what he was speaking of now, and her worries of what Zacharias would say had turned to smoke. After all, she knew as well as anyone that Dennis Creevey was as genuine as they came.

"Not arguing that, it's only we weren't friends with him at Hogwarts. You used to make fun of how he walks," She points out, still finding excuses. No matter how much Dennis has emphasized in his speech that he did not hate them, Marietta did not want to give him any reason to. She remembered Dennis Creevey and his unwavering optimism, and just being in Zacharias' presence would tarnish that spirit.

Scoffing, Zacharias tosses the letter on to the coffee table, where it lands light as a feather. "Made fun of you just as much, and look how splendidly we get on now," Zacharias counters with a smirk, and his jokes are so dry but Marietta can find a drop of water in them. She used to convince herself it was only a mirage.

"That's because you were a prat, and you still are one. Only difference now is that you can't blame adolescence for it," she says with mock annoyance, folding one leg under another.

"No, but I blame you for encouraging it. You're a bad influence, Miss Edgecombe, I should have grown out of this stage by now," his grin is less angry now, more smooth. Sometimes it took hours to wash away at his layers of pent up aggression, the kind that lived to his very core. Sticking her tongue out at him, Zacharias shook his head playfully. "And you only keep proving me right. You really are good at doing that," he quips, and Marietta throws a pillow at him. With the dodge of simply leaning over, she misses her mark.

"Quit being horrible, Zacharias." She warns, but there is no true edge to it.

"I'm not the one refusing to go to a child's tea party. What is he, nineteen now? You'd deny him our famously _charismatic_ company?" He drawled.

"Fine! I'll go," She relents. There's a new smirk on his face, the 'I always get what I want' Look, and not for the first time Marietta regrets pumping up his head with more helium.

"Why the hell didn't he send this by owl?" Zacharias inquires in to the air. He asks, even when there's no answer.

"I don't know"

* * *

The twenty-third comes speeding down the tracks and Marietta feels as if she were the damsel being tied to the rails, seeing her fate on the horizon. In that metaphor, she is not sure if Zacharias is the villain who strapped her there, or if it was Dennis, or maybe it was herself. Either way there is no hero to cut her free, so she holds her breathe, tries to see if she could knock herself out just in time not to feel the pain at all. It works, for awhile. She sends a letter to Cho asking how her Muggle job was going (Cho was an accountant. Her intelligence laid in her mind and not the wand in her hand), folding laundry and learning recipes. Charms was her strong suit, she bested many of her peers in school but when she was seeking out a peaceful state she turned to doing work with her nimble fingers. Nothing cured the worrying mind as menial labour did.

Zacharias won't stop talking.

But when he talks he learns in equal measure, and what he learns he shares. Apparently, Dennis Creevey had dropped off the magical map as soon as he graduated from Hogwarts. Well, almost. After Zacharias' near begging - he begged in his own way, as if he deserved to know everything in your closet - Marietta slips in vague notions to Cho that she might want to know more about the young man's private life. Cho is the only one either of them were on good terms with that Dennis had spoken to recently. And Cho, sweet Cho, never had anything to hide save for the pure nerve in her muscles and determination in her wandwork.

She tells them Dennis is in Muggle university, that he seemed to have no interest in pursuing a life among wizards. Unfortunately, Cho knows little else, and they have exhausted their one source. So Zacharias doesn't talk as much about it, until the day they prepare to head over and witness it all for themselves. If Marietta understood correctly they were to dress tastefully, so she adorns a knee length dress with a sheer shawl and ties her unruly curls up. There used to be nothing she could do for her scars, but now they were near-invisible so she brandishes the canvas of her face with makeup and hopes Dennis forgets. But it's never anyone else that can't remember.

"What motive could he possibly have? To make our sorry arses feel just a little better about ourselves?" The air is Zacharias' best friend.

It always has a reply.

Sometimes Marietta does, too. "To make us feel like special snowflakes. It's the 'Bad Guys Turnover' plan. When they don't have a good enough reason to kill us," She jokes, straight faced, and Zacharias barks out a laugh. There was always a 'they', and the two were always an 'us'. It didn't matter who the 'they' were - The D.A, the Ministry, Harry and his friends, hell even Hagrid - it just mattered that it was separate.

Marietta prefers side-along Apparition. It feels slightly less disorienting for her, her mother used to apparate them everywhere. It was a familiar pull. No one sees them land in the back alley of a Muggle street. Zacharias had scouted the place out days ago, so that they'd have a safe arrival along with the opportunity to investigate. There wasn't anything significant to discover, apart from that the house was too nice for a teenager to own. Chalking it up to Dennis still living with his parents was the most sensible solution, but not one Zacharias was fond of 'Dear Lord if I have to shake hands with his father'. It's Marietta that knocks on the front door, and Zacharias clears his throat and attempts to flatten his mess of blond hair. The attempt fails, and Marietta giggles at him. As expected, he frowned heavily.

The wait is brief, the door swung open with so much a plump that a light wind brushes past and fusses up Zacharias' hair even more. Generous doses of hairspray prevented Marietta from sharing the same fate. Dennis stands at the entrance, impossibly taller than he had any right to be and hair tossed up and fluffing out. There's his cowlick, and his milky brown eyes and his smile is less toothy than it used to be, cheeks less round. Marietta does not know what to do with this familiar stranger, so she is rigid, and she tries not to stare so much.

She hates starers.

But Dennis doesn't notices, he widens the door and gestures his arm towards the exterior of his home and Marietta is grateful for a new focal point. The innards of the house is well-furnished, but not expensively so. There are paintings of geese and flowers hung up on the rose-printed walls. "Quaint," Zacharias comments, and even to Marietta's trained ears she cannot make out if he is sincere. Letting her go first, Marietta steps in with as much enthusiasm as an inmate on death row steps in to prison. An over exaggeration, to be sure, but the desire to be somewhere else is still the same.

"Yeah, it's small," Dennis replies, and if he is offended he does not show it. Marietta didn't think the Creevey boys _could_ get offended. Creevey _boy_. There was only one, now. "But it's home. Uh... I've never really been a 'host' before. Would you guys like something to drink?"

"Got any alcohol?" Zacharias is immediate, and Marietta gives him a glare that he ignores.

"Aha, no, sorry. My mum's been sober two years, not a drop of the stuff in the house," It does not take long for either of the guests to figure out the math on that.

"Good for her," Zacharias' eyes grow dark, his voice containing that unnatural lowness. Flashes come back to her, of an elder Mr. Smith with the rim of a bottle tapping against his teeth. "Couldn't have been a walk in the park," Then, Zacharias, slipping in through the door and Marietta never asking where he'd been. Never asking, because she knew he'd tell her.

"No..." Dennis drags out the word, drags and drags. "I reckon it wasn't," A beat passes. "I wanted to show you two some pictures. Brought two whole albums with me to the Reunion, there's a good two dozen with at least one of you in them," He brightens exponentially, moving on. Already Dennis goes off to search out the photographs. Words were buzzing on Zacharias' lips, she could see them being pushed down. Why Zacharias was showing any restraint she did not know. Perhaps he wanted to be heard clearly, and that could not be done with Dennis halfway down a hidden hall.

"I don't want to look at pictures of myself," Marietta muttered. The young woman knew what she would look like; a sour teenage girl who wanted to be anywhere else. She had no doubts that all the photos Dennis had in his inventory of her were from the DA meetings, where she was most prominent in the Creevey's lives. It was a wonder that they hadn't burned them, along with any trace she might have left behind.

"I'd imagine not, you weren't much of a looker in school," Zacharias insulted openly. Once she swatted him on the arm, his hard expression softened slightly and took on a lopsided, wicked grin. "Oi, be gentle,"

"I will be when you are,"

"Touche,"

When Dennis reappears, the light from the hall gives him a golden halo, and his smile is so wide it gives him apple cheeks and in that slivered moment, Marietta caught a glimpse of the child he used to be. Still was, in a sense. There's a folder held in his hands, plastic and tied down with string and so neon blue it aggravated her eyes. He holds it up as if it were the holy grail, swivels his feet towards the living room and slowly inches down to sit on the couch. Patting the cushions next to him, Dennis speaks with as much excitement as he wears on his sleeve. "Come, sit down! It'll be great," He insists, so Marietta takes a thoughtful plunge and crosses the floor to sit on his right.

A loud, belligerent sigh follows her. "Is it really necessary, though? Couldn't we _talk_ about it instead of see it all over again in silent slow motion?" Zacharias harpoons, getting to Dennis' other side. He sinks in to the sofa, his arms stretching out behind him and he's in control as much as he always is.

"Not all of them move," Dennis corrects, distracted as he unwinds the string sealing their past and Marietta wonders if he'd even listened to everything Zacharias had said.

The one on the very top is dynamic, and half of it is blue and blinding sky. Then, at a sloth-like pace a younger Zacharias begins to fly across the glossy cover and his cape is slashing out behind him and if you look close enough, there is no roughness to his edges. Only smooth lines, and determination. Dennis picks up the edge of the photo between his thumb and forefinger and lifts it closer towards them. Hungry to get a better look, Marietta subconsciously takes the other corner and squints at the sequence trying to find something new, knowing she never will. In her life, Marietta had only ever seen Zacharias play Quidditch two times, and during neither had she had any interest in him. It's a treasure.

"What made Creevey want to take a picture of that? Can't even tell if anything important is going on," Zacharias observes. Did he ever notice the condescension he sometimes slipped in, or was it always unintentional? She'd asked him one time, and his response was direct but unsatisfying. 'Depends who I'm asking.'

Shrugging, Dennis' eyes shift to the small pile on the table. He lets go, and Marietta draws it closer to herself. She thinks of asking Dennis if she might keep it, or perhaps get a copy. "I wasn't there when he took it. To be funny I used to say he should have gone in to Hufflepuff - he was always so nice and helpful - but who's to say how much that had anything to do with it. I think he might've just wanted to keep a moment when-" He stops himself.

"When what?" Zacharias demands, not so cheery.

"When you weren't so..."

"Ticked off at the world?" Marietta provides. Better it come from her. Zacharias glares but she ignores him, and Dennis' shoulders sag comfortably.

"Yeah. Or, that's what I see, knowing you from outside the picture. Maybe Colin-" It's the first time any of them had said his name, and none flinch. "had a different view of it, I didn't even know he had it until years later so I never got to ask him but, he liked for people to take a crack at their own interpretation of his work." Dennis deduced. The next photo has a different tone to it altogether, low lit lights and tall windows and it takes Marietta a moment to understand where she'd seen it before until her eyes land squarely on herself and she covers her eyes before she can drink herself in. It is of a fifteen year old Marietta, before her scar, before her world had closed down to four walls.

She looked odd, at the Yule Ball, giggling next to radiant Cho Chang. This was their prime, two glittering girls with so much potential it burst from their fingertips in sparks and danced in their too wide eyes. Worlds weren't crashing, then. Cho outshone her, as always, with her silken dress and delicate ornament pressed against her shiny hair and Marietta didn't _feel_ ugly, in the moment, she remembered feeling every inch as beautiful. She worked hard, flattening her curls and lining her eyes and Cho had said her dress shimmered on her, that the red in her hair came out more when it was ironed out. But looking at it now... reminded her that she wasn't. Her dress didn't fit her as well as Cho's, her hair while more red than gold was still slightly frazzled, too dry, she was only a little girl pretending to be grown. Marietta used to play make believe, and she was always older than she was. How had Colin even managed to take this? He was too young to be invited, and Marietta knew it was too harsh, but she couldn't think of a single person that would have asked him. He was tiny, and too hyper for his own good.

"Haha, my Lord Mari it always escapes my mind how much of a stereotypical school girl you used to be. It's cute," Zacharias says liltingly, and Marietta almost feels better.

"There's another one, too," Dennis adds spiritedly, letting Zacharias hold on to the photo of them so he can pick up another. This one does not move.

It does not have Cho Chang in it. Only Marietta, and she is not laughing or smiling or doing anything in particular. There is no indicator as to what she could be looking at, and Marietta in her limited memory can not recall. But she doesn't look so little here, not on her own, and the frizz of her hair is marginally less noticeable and her eyes aren't quite as wide. Then, Marietta is hit with it. She knows. It's Cho, and Cedric, and what she didn't have and what she did. Ah, teen angst. The stuff of legend, and, apparently, of pensiveness. For this picture, Zacharias doesn't say as much, though he stares at it longer. Then, he pipes up.

"You only got ones of Marietta at the Ball, or are there more?" A notch of jealously transpires, though of what Marietta can't pinpoint. After all it could have only been Colin that took the picture, she'd never seen Dennis with a camera slung around his neck.

"There's a whole lot more, but none of the rest have got either of you in 'em so I didn't think you'd care," He explains simply. "Do you _want_ to see them?"

Zacharias frowns heavily and Marietta just shakes her head. "I don't," Zacharias confirms.

"Okay. Colin was really happy when he finally convinced someone - Leanne Reynold's - to let him be their plus one. Guy just wanted to go so he could take pictures of everyone in fancy wizard stuff, and not boring old robes," Dennis shakes his head while staring at the floor and gives a short laugh.

"Hadn't even noticed he was there,"Marietta refuses to look at the still image. She is not that uncertain, innocent girl anymore.

"So there's literally none of me at the Yule Ball?" Zacharias deadpanned.

"None that Colin's kept, no. He wasn't really your biggest fan, there's a whole lot more with Marietta in them," Dennis says with a silly smile. Turning to Marietta, he gives her a friendly bump of the shoulder. "I think he had a good opinion of you for awhile even though you didn't speak the best of Harry. You're in as many as Luna and Cho, the three of you were his most photographed Ravenclaws."

"Can't say I ever expected to be a favourite of his," Zacharias brushes it off. He brushes it off the same way he brushes off sneers and insults, the word 'coward' flung at him more times in a week than any average person would hear in a lifetime. The one time she had ever used the ugly word against him, was the only day she had ever seen tears take form at the corner of his eyes. Never has Zacharias called her Sneak, not in retaliation or hurt or otherwise. Of anything Marietta had ever done or said, the moment she decided to take an easy low blow towards the one that meant the most to her was the biggest regret she'd ever had.

"Neither can I," Marietta tacks on, glancing at the pile with new knowledge that most of them had her as the subject. This was not what she had prepared herself for, and her fists tighten in her lap.

"Well Zacharias, there are more of you than there was of Ginny Weasley, she's only got one to her name. So there's that." While Dennis shares this tidbit Marietta feels the self-satisfied smirk on Zacharias' face before she sees it. If there is anyone of his old peers that Zacharias detests, it is the youngest Weasley. "As for you Marietta..."

Quick as a whip another picture is in his hands. There's bittersweet Marietta again, with her curls thick and best friend Cho Chang at her side. But this one is even younger, even more childish and naive. A gaggle of girls surround the two of them but Marietta is closest to the center of it all, Cho, as they all orbit around her. She was Jupiter, and Marietta her closest moon. No one was supposed to get between the lot of them, and no one really did. Did it count, when the severing force was already dead? The image is not still, Wendy Silverman doubles over in laughter and Marietta throws her head back in glee. They laughed at everything, they thought they knew better than the world. "Nearly all of them have got you in it,"

That was true enough. Either Marietta was the focus of the picture or was featuring in it, one of every three had Cho Chang in them and none so far had been of moments after the DA. A couple stood out, the coincidental photo of herself and Zacharias, on the streets of Hogsmeade having just left the Hog's Head. They are not walking with each other, Zacharias is several paces ahead and the only reason she recognizes him is because of the lamplight he is under, illuminating his blond hair and broad shoulders but otherwise lanky form as he tramps ahead stubbornly. Marietta herself is just outside of the light, and besides Hermione she was the only girl with such wild hair in that organization. Another was of Zacharias, solitary, in the Room of Requirement, it's his profile, crossed arms and rolled eyes and to anyone who'd ever been to their meetings, it was obvious what Zacharias was so perturbed about.

There are only three of Zacharias, but he is never a a supporting player in any.

The last is two are ones that stir frustration and humiliation within Marietta, striking her like lightning and causing her to go in to herself. Too thick foundation that colours the bumps on her face the same shade as her skin cannot stop angry red flesh from showing through. It is a moving picture. Her head flicks up, and it is only for a second in real-time but with magic infused in technology it lasts frame by frame, and Marietta does not like the girl that is reflecting back at her. She didn't really like any of them, and she knows that this is only a mirror of herself, of the woman she still was. No one changes, they can only go along with the tide. It is Zacharias that speaks out, and she knows it will always be Zacharias who does so. Her voice was scarred.

"Why the bloody hell is _this_ in your collection," It is not a shout, or particularly angry sounding but there is a threat there all the same. "What are you trying to do here, Creevey? What was the point of inviting us here? It doesn't mean anything."

Dennis isn't smiling anymore. He isn't doing anything, but looking at the photo, splayed out on the table for all to see. The ugly truth, being covered up. Just like good intentions. "There's only one left," He ignores Zacharias, turning over the last one and there's Marietta sitting in the Dining Hall, her balaclava screaming out just as much what she was branded as as the marking on her face did.

She does not move, there is no plate before her. Marietta never ate in front of others in her final year, Madam Pomfrey had house-elves bring up her meals for her in quiet hours of the day.

Madam Pomfrey felt sorry for a girl she couldn't heal.

"You weren't really treated well for what happened, Marietta. Whether Colin meant it to or not, he chronicled a lot of people's lives. One of them was yours. So, I didn't really know what I was doing when I sent you that letter, because I was looking through all these and I realized that there was a better reason for everything that you did than 'they're terrible'. That wasn't fair to you, or to your lives. I'm not going to apologize for it, I haven't done anything to you and I don't think you'd appreciate it. But so you know, you're not not a 'sneak' for eternity for being misguided and sixteen-"

"and you're not a complete coward because you valued your own opportunity to grow up more than that of a single boy's life, or a school that never showed you much affection at all."

"You're not the villains in the story of life. You're only people, trying to make the best of it."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **So... I think this kinda speaks for itself, in that I adore Marietta Edgecombe and Zacharias Smith, the two most... outspoken members of the first Dumbledore's Army. While not 'controversial' characters neither of them are all that liked in fandom but... Zach's my favourite Hufflepuff, and Marietta my favourite Ravenclaw after Luna. Can't help shipping them either, honestly. And Dennis is underappreciated, so why not make a cake of cynicism and sarcasm, with cheerful icing? If any of you feel the same way, you should review to share the love or, if you hate them, still review anyway /shot (Also this is somehow the first Zachietta on this site? 0_0 AO3 has got like... six. And from what I recall, no Zennis or Detta either...)**


	2. The Devoted

**Pairing:** _Sort of Zach x Dennis if you squint  
_

 **Cameo's:** _Colin Creevey  
_

 **Tags:** _Slice of Life(?) Possibly Beginning of a friendship?  
_

 **Format:** _Drabble-ish_

* * *

When so much as the name of Harry Potter was brought up Colin's eyes shimmered with an intensity so magnetic that Dennis, for a time, could pass it off as his own.

With stories of giant snakes and dungeon trolls and a name he could never say, and a name that was worshiped, and a brother who came back during winters and summers with cheeks that puffed up with stories and wonders, Dennis hadn't even realized how he'd lacked the same spark that danced from Colin's finger tips. He didn't know until he went, and he felt as ordinary as he did before and Harry was a simple boy in glasses with only two friends. Magic was a birth right, but loving it was a passion, and loving Harry Potter... that was a religion Dennis could never quite convert to.

But damn anyone who claimed he hadn't tried kneeling at the alter with prayers on his lips. No matter the psalm, Dennis could not get it right. All the same, he respected Harry, respected the history he had and he believed the stories he was told, so wasn't that enough? It seemed so for Colin, who rubbed shoulders with him everywhere and carried his faith on his sleeve and to everyone else on the out looking in, they were the same. So Dennis kept on pretending, and Harry Potter kept on not giving the Creevey's any mind, and it kept on not mattering. Until the day that it started to, until the day Hermione dug her feet before them and spoke with shifted eyes and low tones and suddenly it all mattered.

Didn't they want to learn _proper_ DADA?

Didn't they want _Harry_ teaching them?

His bubble had shattered with a mere nudge from Hermione Granger, but Dennis did not crack. He smiled wide, and then wider until it could match Colin's and he wondered if Hermione was smart enough to notice how their eyes were not the same. It's only later that Dennis learns what he had no inkling of, then. Not even Hermione Granger, who offered to help him with Transifguration on a night he found the work particularly daunting, Hermione Granger who had found him in the Owlery at the last day of his first week sobbing in to his arms wishing for nothing more than home, and gave a knowing smile and a story of her own homesickness - 'It's worse for us Muggle-borns, I think' - could separate them in her mind. He does not know this, and yet he pleads as well as he can without his words, that she try.

Hermione Granger gives another of her kind smiles, and she walks away proudly with new members under her belt. Far later, he learns how maybe, she wouldn't have done anything even if she knew.

Hyped up on Honeydukes Dennis is elated, and he feels more Gryffindor than ever before. The Weasley twins had snuck him in to Hogsmeade with matching grins and pumped him full of sugar, clapping his back for his bravery. Dennis does not know bravery, but he knows adrenaline running down his spine and pure giddiness in his throat and he thinks that it must be the same.

He gives high-pitched giggles when he sees Colin and a snort when he sees Harry and he gets the idea of pretending even _more_ , blending in to Colin even _more_ because that's who they wanted, wasn't it? Someone who they could count on, someone whose eyes lit up a thousand different ways. Otherwise he wouldn't be here, tucked underneath the arms of taller boys who praised him greatly, he wouldn't be proving his own grit. Hermione, with her helping hand, would never have reached out to him alone. So he pretends, and doesn't know how thick he is laying it and no one tells him. They think it is just how he is. Even Colin, who is happier now that Dennis' eyes so perfectly match his own, says nothing.

The meeting starts, and Hermione passes around a confidentiality sheet that he wants to laugh at but can't. It would not be appreciated. He's had the nerve the whole day, and does not bat an eyelash as he signs his own name down right underneath his brother's. From more practice, Colin's cursive slopes delicately while Dennis' ends in a jutted mess. The next person grabs it hungrily, and Dennis smiles at himself. He thinks this is bravery.

Here's how it will go: Hermione will talk, and then Harry, and then Hermione and maybe Harry will have something to add at the very end. It starts off at the right track, Hermione begins and Dennis starts tuning out. He's got a sense for this, for knowing when it will all be repeated back to him in the lilting voice of his older brother. Harry begins his spiel, and Dennis is starting to come off his high and wonder what he is doing here. The room stops, or rather their little corner of Hog's Head, and Dennis straightens up because he missed the break in routine. A Hufflepuff boy has his dark eyes locked on Harry Potter, and all of a sudden chaos breaks loose.

"Who are _you_?" Ron bites, and Dennis thinks the Weasley probably doesn't know who he is, either, apart from Colin's 'little brother.'

Dennis is barely paying attention to the chorusing voices of the Weasley's, their open mouths acting as the first line of defence for the chosen one. He sees Zacharias Smith, the challenge he presents and then Colin is knocking his arm gently, leaning over.

"Who is this guy?" He echoes Ron's earlier words with less condescension, and Dennis cannot tell him. But Dennis' eyes are glued to his form, to this boy that decided he didn't really care for following along and he couldn't look away.

The meeting ends, but not after a bodily threat is sent Zacharias' way and the Hufflepuff had earned the resentment of half the Gryffindors present, and Dennis still cannot train his gaze anywhere else.

"Are you all right, Dennis?" Colin asks beside him. He tries to follow Dennis' line of sight, but he falls short on finding the focal point. "It's like someone put something in your drink. Your eyes are-"

"Shining?" He flicks them over to Colin, and imagines that they are flashing with intensity.

"Yeah, something like that. You didn't drink anything, did you?" It's not accusatory, but there are hints of concern all the same.

Dennis turns away, and he finds Zacharias once again, stropping down the street. He thinks of trying to catch up, but doesn't due to better judgement. Maybe tomorrow, if Hermione does not spirit him away.

He hasn't, but it feels a whole lot better.

* * *

 **Installments aren't always going to include all three of them, and the ones I've actually got written are mostly one-on-one interactions. Anyways, I always had this idea in mind that Dennis isn't quite as fanatic about Harry Potter as his brother is, I'd rather not portray them as mirror images of each other. Please leave a review, and critique anything. Heck, I'd even take requests if you've got anything in mind~  
**


	3. A Lesson In Herbology

**Pairing:** _None_

 **Cameo's:** _None_

 **Tags:** _Slice of Life, Friendship, Humour_

 **Format:** _Drabble_

Light streams in from the roof of green house number ten, and two students with books splayed out on a table and a rather docile plant are listening to their third member spew on about the injustices of the world.

Really, it is just as any other Herbology tutoring day between the three secret friends.

Marietta stood with her arms crossed, letting half of Zacharias Smith's words echo around in her ears. Every so often she purses her lips, or lets out a sharp 'hmph' not interrupting at all. Being an upstanding Herbology student, Marietta had offered to assist her underclassmen. Neither of them had actually needed it, the set up only in place for a particular set of reasons.

The first was privacy. The second was so know one would suspect that any of them liked each other.

It was Dennis' idea. Frankly, Marietta couldn't give a toss.

Complaining about such matters was a duty that singularly belonged to Zacharias, who could not for the life of him understand why neither the Ravenclaw or Gryffindor wished to make their relationships public to the world. At first he'd been irritated when Marietta agreed with their youngest friend that they they remain discrete, but became highly amused when the curly-haired girl admitted it was only because Cho disliked him greatly.

Good, he didn't need frittering dollops looking at him fondly.

What he did need, however, was for Ginny Weasley to disappear from this planet forever more. The blighter threw one of her insufferable Bat Bogey Hexes at him, which certainly did _not_ go appreciated, and when a professor came around to dual out punishment for once Zacharias had actually been deluded enough to believe she was going to get what she deserved. No, it had to be _Slughorn_ of all people to intervene, and while he was busy reprimanding her as harshly as a marshmallow he'd had the _bright idea_ of asking her to join his exclusive club.

Never before had Zacharias seen such a self-satisfied smirk as he did that day on one Ginny Weasley, and he didn't think anyone would believe that it came off as more pompous than even his own most smug leer.

She was a right prat, but it seemed only Zacharias could see the devil in her.

"Well, I'm certain she apologized," Dennis defended her. "Professor Slughorn would have gotten her to do that, yeah?" Marietta rolls her eyes. Only Dennis would have faith in that.

He shakes his head, and grumbles some more. "This is the kind of thing I've been _telling_ you about, Dennis, she's using her sub par looks and passing off her craziness as quirky. You ask a girl a few things and all of a sudden she becomes a demon. It's not right,"

"Methinks you might like her," Dennis effectively takes Zacharias' words with a grain of salt, smiling that goofy smile of his.

Spluttering completely, Zacharias' face turns entirely red and his hands fly up in the air as if he could swat the image away on the physical plane. Marietta lets out a laugh and so does Dennis, leaving Zacharias to stare helplessly at them. Getting him annoyed was as simple as twisting the stick up his bottom only a little. "I _do not_ ," Insisting uselessly, it does nothing to convince the others of the authenticity of his words. "I really don't. She's a pain,"

"A pain you'd like to be yours," Dennis continues to tease, over the past months he has long grown used to the seething look that came in and out of sight underneath Zacharias' navy eyes.

"I'd rather shag Professor Flitwick in scantily clad maid attire,"

Well, if _that's_ your taste..."

Saying nothing else, Zacharias angrily leans over the table to skim over Herbology homework he'd already completed. Tossing her head towards Dennis, she gave him a mischievous smile. The Gryffindor always found a way to shut Zacharias up from his complaining.

It was a necessity, some days, while the light lingered above their heads in green room number ten.

* * *

 **A cute little friendshippy moment, wouldn't you say? This can basically take place from Golden Trio Era years five through six, but it is more likely early on as that's when the Bat Bogey Hex would've been fresh on Zach's mind. I don't ship Zinny AT ALL, for various reasons. I don't think they could ever like each other, not even in a 'bantering' sort of way as Ginny would get realllllllyy sick of that very early on, plus it's nice to think there's at least one non-Weasley out there that DOESN'T want to get in her pants -_- (Like seriously even Death Eaters and Slytherins find her attractive... why?)  
**


	4. The Library Visit

**Pairing:** _none_

 **Cameo's:** _Hermione Granger_

 **Tags:** _Slice of Life, Romance, slightly AU, What If?_

 **Format:** _Drabble_

* * *

It's that early hour of the morning where a haze settles over grass and the air feels so crisp you could grab it with one hand and crackle it into new and stubborn shapes in your fingers. Zacharias is hunched over at one of the tables in the library because he was never a good student, and his Transfiguration essay needed to be graded three hours from then and yeah, maybe he wasn't a good Hufflepuff either.

But, he wasn't afraid to hand in a messy scroll of broken and fragmented sentences, so maybe he deserved a little credit. Or maybe he didn't. That was the thing about Zacharias, he was going to do what he did regardless of approval.

The library smelled great, with less people in it. There was less weeping over the stresses of schoolwork, less fluttering of paper as someone turned pages and less Gryffindors thinking they were being coy by whispering behind closed palms, and at that less harsh glares and sharp 'shhhs!' from Madam Pince. She seemed happier in the morning, too, but he couldn't say whether she smelled better. Probably.

As another thoughtless letter carves its way into his useless parchment a tap causes Zacharias to pause. Stupidly he holds the pointed quill too long and a blot appears. He'll have to scrap it now, McGonagall appreciated clean script and of anything he'd try to give her that at least. His calm morning had taken a downturn however in that one split second, because he'd _already_ had three paragraphs written and, sure, they might not have been _fantastic_ but they were something, and they'd taken time that he'd molded out of pure morning air.

Out of frustration he ignored whomever had decided to interrupt him, but they had shown persistence. They cleared their throat. Zacharias sighed, grabbed a new sheet and hunched over even closer. The wooden bench he sat upon became somewhat heavier, they had taken a seat next to him. "Zacharias, I'm sorry to intrude on your studies..." As she spoke, Zacharias tensed up recognizing the elegant enunciation as belonging to none other than Hermione Granger.

"What is it, Granger? Are you meant to lure me into some sort of trap the Weasley Prats have set up for me?" He accused coldly. While he found the Muggle-born more tolerable than the rest of Potter's entourage, he didn't trust her.

"Um, no," as he observed her, Zacharias realized she was far more evasive than she normally was. Usually, she would look him straight in the eye. "I was wondering if you would be my date to Professor Slughorn's Christmas Party," Zacharias nearly choked, all but forgetting his work set out before him.

On the same par as the HolyHead Harpies, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team's losing streak, and the Weasley Clan combined, Zacharias _hated_ Slughorn and his elitest overachieving brown-nosers. And it had nothing at all to do with how Ginny Weasley had gotten in at his expense. How great could a dumb hex even be to get into that group? If Zacharias let out a particularly impressive burp and charmed it to sparkle would he get in too? The whole of it was bollocks, and now Hermione was asking him to go to an event of their's as his arm piece where a bunch of smarmy students got pats on the back and old people can pretend it's all relevant. No, thanks.

Besides, he did not want to give Hermione the wrong impression, as there was no way he'd go on a second date let alone a first with her.

"No, I'm fine. While I am a wonderful choice, I'm sure someone else would have a better time at that... Thing. Have fun, though," He dismissed her entirely.

"Oh, well, all right," For a moment Hermione seemed genuinely shocked that he'd let her down, but Zacharias had already turned his sights to his essay and stopped giving her any mind. Silently, she departed and let him be.

"What was that all about?" Another distraction, and again a familiar voice, broke away the silence. Zacharias grinned up at the newcomer, happy to see a friend.

"Dennis, have I got something to tell you,"

Needless to say, Zacharias ended up writing all through breakfast to get his essay done. The morning air still felt crisp and sweet.

* * *

 **All right so, here's another drabble. Canonically Hermione was on the fence in deciding whether to ask Cormac McLeggan or Zacharias Smith to the Christmas Party (since Ron hates both) and ended up going with Cormac as everyone knows. This is if she decided to ask Zacharias instead, because I don't think it'd go nearly as well as it did with Cormac. If I ever update this again I might do another alternate route where Zacharias actually says yes.**

 **I don't think I'll continue with this though, it has received absolutely no fanfare from readers so, and if no one likes it it is taking away from other fics I write. So yeah if you want it to continue, I don't want to be that person but, show some love!**


	5. A Past Untold

**Pairings:** _Dennis x Marietta_

 **Tags:** _Romance, Post-Gen, Grief, Angst_

 **Cameos:** _None_

 **Format:** _Drabble_

* * *

In their first kiss, shame tastes bitter on his tongue and bubbles up his nose like pop drunken too fast.

He pulls back with a jolt and as soon as he does he knows it was the wrong move. Marietta stares at him with befuddlement at first, and then hurt that pencils itself in to her features. Faintly a hand nearly comes up to stroke her own cheek and Dennis grabs her wrist before she can reach. This was not how it was meant to go, he was meant to sweep her off her feet, make her forget the clumsy and plucked schoolboy he used to be once upon a time. But one single second had efficiently ruined months of hard work and wooing one Marietta Edgecombe, a girl so wounded she hadn't met his eyes until the third time they'd spoken out of Hogwarts.

"Is it-" She begins.

"No!" He shuts her down, instantly, if only he could cast her thoughts away. The ones that shadowed her, that shrunk her down "You're-" His eyes shift from one of her baby blues to the other, trying to find the right words to describe her grace. Marietta was someone he'd admired as soon as he heard her, a sharp tongue hidden behind bowed lips and supple skin. "You're amazing, love. It's only he called dibs, and then he started hating you and I don't really feel... good, about that,"

She shakes her head, perplexed, reddish golden curls bouncing along. She hated when he, or anyone, tried touching them. "What are you talking about?"Right. Dennis made a point of never speaking of... Colin. His brother was untread territory between the two. Marietta knew him, knew what happened to him but neither had ever brought it up and for awhile that was okay. It was okay when Dennis wasn't sure how far this would go but now... now it was the most important thing in the world. "My brother." He runs a hand through his sandy hair, far shorter than he wore it in school. "During the-" He stops, and internally grunts. "Okay," He claps his hands together. "We need to talk about this, because if we don't I'll burst and I'll never be able to bring myself to kiss you and... I really want to kiss you,"

"All right, Dennis..." She mutters warily, suspiciously. The only go ahead he may ever get.

"So, when we were all in the D.A, my brother Colin, he fancied you quite a lot," Her jaw goes slack, mouth partially open in disbelief. "He tried being rather cool about it, and I think it might have mostly been because you were Cho Chang's best friend and everyone knew how much Harry liked her. He did things like that all the time, emulating Harry any way he could, even copied his classes to the tee." It was silly, looking back on it now.

"So he literally 'called dibs' on me?" She asks incredulously. "That was daft," She deadpans.

Dennis takes on a full blown smile, laughing heartily. "Well, neither of us thought too much about the stuff we did. And uh, when the D.A disbanded-"

"You can say it, Dennis. I tore it apart with my bare hands. I think we are past the point where I need to feel ashamed of it around you," She rolls her eyes, and Dennis playfully pokes her arm.

"You still are though, Marietta," he says cheekily, and she rolls her eyes again. This time, a blush accompanies it.

"See! This is the thing, Colin liked you for all the wrong reasons without even talking to you once-"

"He tried, only one time since I shooed the two of you away." She cuts in.

"Still, you weren't generally in a good, friendly mood when we were all in meetings. The same as approaching a bear in hibernation. Or at all." He argues, and she shrugs at that. "He never got to see you for you, without the rose-tinted glasses. He chalked up all your attitude in the meetings to some other excuses, and when you actually sold us out it was like someone had splashed some water in his face and told him to wake up. He always saw the world too black and white, is what I mean,"

"I don't know, you share in some of that unwavering optimism. Are you sure you see me the right way? What with how everyone else-"

"There's another thing," He adds in smoothly. Dennis inches closer, and he stares down at Marietta with kindness. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. Not even Colin, it's only that I need to get it all off my chest and since he's not here for me to validate myself to, I needed to at least say something aloud to get this _stupid_ uncertainty out of my head."

He gets closer, and Marietta tilts her head up and her eyes are so, so blue. "I'm certain about you, Marietta Edgecombe,"

Their lips meet for their second kiss, and suddenly all is right in the world.

* * *

 **So, I'm just going to post what drabbles I've already written, may as well right? Only a couple more of these and the series is done, since I don't think anyone cares about it.**


	6. The Hogwarts Express

**Pairings:** _Zacharias x Marietta_

 **Tags:** _Next Gen, Humour, Slice of Life, Beginnings_

 **Cameos:** _None_

 **Format:** _Drabble-ish_

* * *

The last time Marietta believes she will ever enter platforms nine and three quarters, she is holding the small hand of her eleven year old boy.

Before they leave home Marietta takes a deep breathe in front of the mirror and fiddles around a number of ways with her cheeks. There are scars there, flecks of red that could almost pass for beauty spots now except for their off colour, and Marietta pinches her skin just to see them disappear beneath the rush of blood. Banging interrupts her, it's always interrupting her now but it distracts her, and more often than not brings a smile to her face that used to be so hard to conjure. So Marietta charms makeup on her face and tries to keep in mind that today was for him, and no one could taint that.

"Coming, love"

A cold sweat seeps in to her pours as Marietta wills herself to run in to the gateway, her son was only perturbed for a minute before he gathered up the nerve for it. They were nervous for entirely different reasons. When she meets him on the other side he is close by and alone and Marietta immediately sweeps to his side. He looks up at her with steady blue eyes the same shade as her own, and runs a comforting hand through his soft golden, red tinted curls and not for the first time she reflects on how he is very much her own image, all of him is hers.

Then, he is gone, and Marietta sees the trees for the forest and she's about to duck out because further along the tracks it is practically a Weasley family reunion and she has no business with them until a hand lands squarely on her shoulder keeping her in this dream that had so suddenly spiraled in to a waking nightmare. "Oi, Marietta?"

Her form is rigid. Sneak Sneak Sneak Sneak. She was waiting for it, that one word, so she could finally be released. "You went off and spawned your own, eh?" Now Marietta turns to him, and she is actually amazed that she preferred the presence of Zacharias Smith over any other person at the moment, excluding those on the train. The conscious narrowing of her brows and accompanied glare pops up all the same. It became apparent a long time ago that coming off as a wench was highly favourable to coming off as a doormat.

He holds his hands back, mock defending himself, and somehow, coming from Zacharias it is still a self-important gesture. "Just saying yours looks a hell of a lot like you,"

"Okay. Thanks, I suppose," She replies drily, and begins treading away.

Zacharias keeps pace with her, however, and she can't for the life of her understand why. They weren't friends at Hogwarts and they certainly weren't now. Though she didn't hate him with a passion as nearly everyone else did, she couldn't say she was too fond of him either. He only reminded her that they were one of the same. "Did you see the Weasley-Potter Clan? I think they might be trying to start a mafia family, there are way too many of them. It's actually terrifying that our kids might be _friends_ with them,"

She rolls her eyes. "So what if they do?" In actuality, Marietta hadn't thought of her son becoming friends with a Weasley... it unsettled her stomach.

Snorting derisively, Zacharias nearly smacks in to a column but dodges just in time. "Don't lie, just picturing it feels disgusting. Already told David to try being in any other house than Gryffindor, that's where ninety percent of them end up so hopefully the devil child will actually listen for once. I'd rather not have any of them spending Christmas at my house, it'd take weeks to wash the heroism out,"

"What's his mum's house?" Marietta asks conversationally, willing to steer his chatter away from that of her child's possible alliance with the Weasley's in the future. With a singular concentration she hadn't yet observed that Zacharias was as on his own as she was, the implications had escaped her.

His navy eyes grew darker, and Marietta wishes she hadn't asked. While waiting for the Express to finally begin its trek she had no other company, and didn't really want to sour his mood despite still wanting him to bugger off. "She never had one. A muggle. Where's your husband?" It's said with a sneer, and Marietta frowns, and her lips begin trembling and her eyes start watering and damn it why did Zacharias have to come and torment her? Her feet begin carrying her away rapidly and she doesn't care that she's headed straight for the Weasley's, the most they'd do is ignore her. It's pathetic, she realizes, that she must choose between being treated like an insect beneath someone's foot, or a punching bag for someone else's amusement. Silently, she prays that her son cannot see her, that he won't be looking out the window at her. She also hopes no one he sits with has flaming red hair, but she is more ashamed of that desire.

"Wait, Marietta," With his long strides it takes no time at all for Zacharias to catch up. Warily, he stares behind her, and she knows that she is not the only one who feels misplaced. Hogwarts stopped being theirs years ago. "It... might not've been appropriate for me to say that,"

"You think?" She leers, rubbing away at her tears. Letting Zacharias see that he had gotten to her was unpleasant to say the least.

"I'm a monster, I know. I've already resigned myself to my fate. So, I'm sorry for making you feel like shite,"

She looks him over, then the whistle of the red locomotive rings out and Marietta glances over to see steam billowing out from its engine and she whisks herself towards it. Desperately her eyes try to find the face that matches her own, and when she does she lets out a sigh of relief she hadn't known she'd been holding. The one sharing his compartment had silken black hair and Asian features. Maybe her son had found himself a Cho Chang. Those were keepers. Abrupt tears had sprung up in her eyes as memories of her first train ride to Hogwarts surfaced, motivated by nostalgia. Perhaps history was repeating itself here, passed on to the next generation. She waves exuberantly, blows air kisses and smiles so wide her cheeks ache and it's all a mask.

"They're not off to join the army, you know. I hear Hogwarts is past their child soldier stage," Zacharias is right behind her, tall and slouched.

Marietta twists her face as she remembers his earlier slight, but the joke was too amusing for her not to melt in to peals of laughter. "Dear Lord, they might just start that up again if only for entertainment. Potter would take charge, of course. He'd be their Dumbledore," She couldn't resist poking fun at it. But it wasn't that funny really, not when she squinted to see all its ugly marks.

Zacharias smirks. "Do you want to come and have lunch with me?" It's out of the blue, and Marietta is already nodding as she takes in a deep breathe to control her mirth. She's not sure why she agrees to it, but she can't find a problem with it either.

"Wonderful. We have some catching up to do,"

Zacharias Smith was no prince charming, but Marietta Edgecombe had seen enough of self-righteous boys.

* * *

 ***sighs* there are only a few left. Also I realized I accidentally tagged last chapter as Colin x Marietta, I'll have to fix it later.**


	7. A Parcel of News

**Pairings:** _Dennis x Marietta_

 **Tags:** _Romance, post-Hogwarts, Slice of Life_

 **Cameos:** _None_

 **Format:** _Drabble_

* * *

Fifteen minutes. Marietta inhales but she can't feel the oxygen come in. In only fifteen minutes, Dennis would arrive. Punctual and polite, that's what he was.

Her blue eyes constantly flicker towards the door, she sits on the arm of her sofa and twiddles her thumbs and hopes that she could hold time in her hands, squeeze and kneed it in to whatever shapes she wanted. These fifteen minutes, she would make them last for eternity. A bird flits past the window, its glide strong and sure and it has no worries for seconds or hours or days. Fourteen minutes. Marietta wonders how she'll force the words out of her mouth, it would be a ball of hair that she'd have to hack and cough through, an unpleasant but necessary experience. She wonders how it turned out this way.

Subconsciously, Marietta lays her hand across her stomach and leans back on one arm, it is not as relaxing a position as she thought it would be. The young woman shifts herself to her original posture. Somewhere in the building, someone stomps on the floor too hard. Kids are laughing outside. Thirteen minutes, and Marietta gulps and shuts her eyes. An epiphany comes to her, to reschedule, but Dennis is already on his way and would probably show up just to check on her, just to see for himself if she was all right. What will he say, now? Twelve minutes, Marietta opens her eyes again,and maybe starts to feel better about it.

The minutes go by faster and Marietta fluctuates, at ten minutes she is serene while at seven she is melting down. At three she hardens again, soft and mallieable metal being turned in to something else but still enduring. At one minute left on the clock she exhales, and remembers that life had a way of going in a circle. Dennis is early, by exactly thirty seconds, his wraps on the door the perfect medium between too loud and too quiet. It is not intrusive or demanding or meek, it is only Dennis. It is only life.

She opens the door, even though he has a key. He's had a key since she moved in, but Dennis insisted on being let in. Standing at the door he is caramel curls and bright eyes and the fears under her skin don't fade completely. But it does become light as air. What will his mother say? The news does not come out all at once, it is not a waterfall that denies to be restrained because Marietta has never been one for huge gestures. First, she tests, and she knows she will tell him anyway. It takes an hour to work up the courage.

But it is all worth it. Dennis nearly jumps out of his seat, he moves towards her so quickly she cannot process his arms around her until they are there, and they are so warm that she leans in to them. Whispered sweet nothings are cast in to her ear and Dennis does not stop there, he trails kisses on her cheeks and down the lengrh of her neck until he reaches the top of her stomach, and his gaze rests peacefully there. In that perfect moment, Marietta could no longer fathom why she had been so anxious, afraid of rejection. Dennis never looked at her that way before.

"I'll be a dad?"

"You will, the best in the whole world."

He grins, and she grins back. In every story we are limited to the time we have. Marietta wouldn't regret a single second that had been given.

* * *

 **This is the only pre-written one I have left.**

 **Thank you a thousand times to ChesterBancroft for leaving a review... though I never 'threaten' viewers into it, I will always say that reviews are something that, more than following/favouriting, shows authors on that readers care. We don't get paid, it's literally all we have to know if we've reached anyone out there. But Chester, your review really warmed my heart, knowing that I had affected how other people see these characters, that I was able to portray my own interpretations that others enjoyed or changed their perspective or just got them thinking about it, too... that's what I wanted for this series. I'm glad we're on the same page when it comes to Dennis aha**

 **Anyways I will continue this thing, writing drabbles/short stories and such is a pretty good exercise. Let's hope 2017 is awesome :)**


	8. Life

**Pairing:** _None_

 **Cameo's:** _Susan Bones_

 **Tags:** _Postwar, Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort_

 **Format:** _One Shot / perhaps there will be a part 2_

* * *

Dozens of feet into the air, the crisp wind feels colder. The bench is stiffer, and it creaks, and Dennis feels as if the stands are swaying and he, too, is swaying with it. And Susan Bones sits beside him, she is wearing her yellow and black scarf but there are no small rectangular flags clasped tightly between her mitts. The game has not started yet, and the quidditch field is all grey, the wooden boxes are grey, the banners are grey, even Susan's normally vibrant red waves are tinged with the same dimness that cloaks everything in life. She is talking, she is the only one of them that talks anymore, trying to reinstate any sense of normalcy. She is the only one who will look right into Dennis' eyes as she speaks, but it is not often that Dennis takes it upon himself to listen.

He remembers the first quidditch game he ever attended, a roaring member of the audience. _See, this is what I was telling you about, Dennis!_ They were surrounded by red and gold, by shouts that called for each player to try their all. It used to be what 'war' looked like, before real blood stained their eyes red and true.

"I used to really want to be on the Hufflepuff team when I was small, I think I liked the idea of just whizzing around up there, ungrounded, more than anything else,"

"Hmm" Dennis hummed.

"What about you, Dennis? You'll be staying on longer at school now…" She does not say why. She was not there, when his mum and dad pulled them aside, the Order of Phoenix warning against two young muggle-born boys treading into dangerous waters. Hogwarts was always dangerous in Dennis' mind, the same way rollercoasters or bungee jumping was, sending a thrill down his spine knowing that he made it out again another year. But he'd never seen his parents look so worried, anxious… scared.

"You think you'll try joining the team?"

"They'd only let me on out of pity," he deadpanned, milky brown eyes drained of excitement. Although having to take his fourth year while fifteen, Dennis Creevey was a lanky boy that used to pass for a second year the days his cheeks were particularly pink. Sometimes people say he's aged five years.

Susan sighs, she does not attempt to infuse any sort of optimism into the atmosphere. She tries her best, but there are limits. "I just thought maybe you would be good at it, the risky sort of flyer, you know? The day you came into the Great Hall soaked we all thought maybe we got another Harry Potter in our midst. Quidditch-wise."

He shrugs heavily. It always looked now as if Dennis had something weighed on him. It was life. Maybe Susan thought he would be pleased with such a comparison. "No one can be like Harry Potter," he tells her simply. _They can only die for him_. It was a bitter thought, and one Dennis took his time to regret conjuring.

Instead of colouring the conversation further Susan's eyes creep down to the pitch. "Looks like they're finally starting, probably waiting on more people to watch," she notes. They are the only two in their box, further out Dennis could make out maybe a couple dozen first or second years attempting to enjoy their first experience with one of the most sacred aspects of wizarding life. This was the first match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor of the season. Every preceding game had the same turnout. Earlier that year, professor McGonogall encouraged students to show support for their team as all those lost would have wanted, that it would boost morale, that it would help instill some sort of normalcy, that this, that that…

To the announcer's credit, he tries stirring up as much enthusiasm as possible for each of the players as they come up into the air, closer to eye level with those in the stands. "Ugh, Zacharias Smith. Why he thinks he has a right to play now over the bodies of-" Susan begins to mutter, but suddenly realizes something and her eyes go wide and she gasps, closing her mouth. "I'm sorry Dennis, we're supposed to be having fun-"

"It's fine," Dennis interrupts candidly, and he muster's a small smile. No one was normal around Dennis anymore, not anyone his own age or younger. They all knew, but they did not know what to say. So none of his friends said anything anymore. Without a word, Dennis had been catapulted into the seventh or circumstantial Eighth Year group, whose grief was the only thing that made sense anymore. In particular, Susan herself decided to extend a hand of friendship towards him. The Hufflepuff, Dennis found, knew better than others how to take loss and to keep on living. Despite their bravado, Gryffindor's seemed unable to comprehend what came next once battles were won. "Do you think Ginny will slam him into an announcer's box again?"

A look of surprise eschewed Susan's features for a moment, before laughter crinkled around the edges of her eyes. "Oh, no, Dennis, the last time he complained about it for ages in the Common Rooms! Although maybe getting a strong rivalry between the two will get people into the stands," she giggled, altogether in a brighter mood. "I have to admit, Zacharias is quite a good chaser, I don't know if he's quite as good as Ginny but their butting heads is amusing nonetheless,"

Just then, Dennis caught sight of said blond chaser, his messy hair smoothed out by the wind as he gusted past them. Zacharias Smith was someone he did not interact with often, always warned against interactions with the skeptical Hufflepuff. He was considered selfish, cowardly, abrasive, obnoxious, and a number of less than admirable characteristics. Many shared the same sentiment as Susan, that the of-age Zacharias Smith, who sped away from the War, allegedly shoving past first years, was not even so much as worthy of passing through the gates of Hogwarts ever again. What excuse did he have? The Slytherins could boast of house pressures and family duties, but what could Zacharias Smith claim? He was in the original DA, a friend of Cedric Diggory, a possible Helga Hufflepuff descendant, and weren't Hufflepuff's meant to be team players? Dennis heard it all before, the accusations going through his ears vaguely, and everyone thought he agreed.

After all, one of the dead bodies Zacharias Smith was carelessly playing quidditch over belonged to his brother.

But Dennis Creevey was unable to feel rage and disgust every time Zacharias Smith passed by him in the halls, or when he was eating in the Great Hall or lounging in the Courtyard or anywhere else they might cross paths. Even now, he is unable to feel angry with Zacharias Smith for partaking in a popular pastime over the graveyard of the War after he chose not to participate in a higher stakes massacre. It was not Zacharias Smith that made threats against Hogwarts, it was not Zacharias Smith that mercilessly ran the school the year prior, or gathered up pureblood Death Eaters and forced them into hiding, or split his soul into several Horcruxes. Zacharias Smith killed no one, he only had the privilege of living. Dennis Creevey knew something he expected that not everyone did; every person has their own set of values. Some value glory and duty, others value wealth and legacy. Zacharias Smith happened to be of the sort to value life, even in the short picture.

Zacharias Smith did not know who would win the War, maybe it mattered to him and maybe it did not. Maybe the only thing that mattered to him was saving his own skin. But Dennis Creevey did not think that reason needed to be validated by noble virtues. He could appreciate it on its own. And it seemed Zacharias felt no need to validate it either, he was just trying with the life that he chose. A notch of frustration itches at Dennis' throat.

He knew what Colin wanted, knew that martyrdom always suited him, in a strange way, the same way his camera did.

But Dennis Creevey wishes, as he silently watches Zacharias Smith zip here and there across the field, that Colin Creevey had chosen to be a coward too.

"You know Susan, maybe I will try out next year. Could distract me a little, make life more bearable,"

"Oh!" Susan is a little taken aback, she was in the middle of recounting some story from her third year. "Yeah, I mean if you want I could come watch and support you,"

He nods, and stares on into the future. He grew to appreciate the word 'future' more.


End file.
